DragonSlayer
by GEEDZ
Summary: HOO-RAH first story. A fantasy warrior-style epic originally created by Liam P.
1. Beginnings

**Authors notes: Well, to all who know me, this was created originally by Liam.P (Nakey) and then further edited by me. It's an epic about a warrior named Padraig with a disturbing past... Enjoy!**

The great reptilian birdlike creature soared overhead. Its blood red scales shimmered in the watery winter sun. Suddenly it tucked its wings in by the sides of its body and dived. Padraig ducked and the creature missed him by inches and stuck its claws into a nearby tree. Padraig ran, his feet sinking deep into the snow, and just as the creature freed itself; Padraig tripped on a tree root and fell headfirst into the snow.

He drew his sword and turned to face his adversary. As the creature attacked again Padraig struck out with his sword. He hit the creature with the hilt, stunning it momentarily, giving Padraig enough time to get up and run. He ran. His feet sank deep into the snow. He stumbled but recovered.

The creature came after him, relentlessly pursuing him. Still he ran. He ran for his life. Adrenalin pumped through his body. His limbs ached like hell but still he ran. The creature let out an ear piercing screech and swooped down again. Padraig dodged out of the way and ran even harder. Suddenly he fell. The ground underneath him had fallen away. Padraig found himself in a dark narrow tunnel. A sudden screech from behind him echoed through the air. The creature was coming round again. Padraig freed his crossbow from his belt and pointed towards the entrance that he fell through. The creature stuck its head through the hole only to be met by a crossbow bolt in the eye. It screeched with rage and pain and retreated from the hole. It was waiting for him.

There was only one way for him to go now. Down the tunnel. It was dank and dark and wet. Padraig couldn't go back now, but he was becoming claustrophobic and starting to panic, this tunnel seemed to be endless. He soon became tired and found himself dropping off as he crawled. He forced himself on; with every movement he made his muscles exploded with pain. He had given up all hope when he saw light ahead; he forced himself on with renewed vigour, slowly pulling himself closer towards the light. With one final heave he pulled himself out onto a rocky ledge. He was in a massive cavern, in the mountains. It was like a giant tear in the rock, it was so deep, and there were several ledges on the walls. Lower down there was a ledge that ran right round the walls of the cavern.

At one end was a gigantic pile of bones and at the other was a field of stalagmites. What interested Padraig where the large overall shaped objects amongst the rock. "Eggs," Padraig breathed, "Frost dragon eggs!" he smiled to himself. This made the trip all worthwhile. "There must be at least half a dozen here, oh mummy's been busy, hey wait a…" an ear piercing roar split the silence.

A gigantic shape smashed through a large tunnel at the other end of the cavern. It reared up onto its hind legs and flapped its great leathery bat like wings and let out another fearsome roar. Its silvery blue scales were dazzling, shimmering like moonlight. Two beautiful curved horns grew from its head and stretched out. Vicious spines ran down its back from the tip of its long, sweeping tail to the back of its head. Its gleaming red eyes scanned around, then fell upon Padraig. Those eyes burned through him like coals, riddling his soul with fear and doubt. Padraig bellowed at the top of his voice and drew his sword, holding it over his head ready to charge. The dragon in front of him cried out with rage and opened its mouth and let loose a gigantic ball of blue fire.

Padraig dived instinctively, crashing to the ground a few meters away. Even at that distance and through his armour the dragonfire had burnt his arm badly, (luckily not his sword arm though). He stumbled to his feet to only to be thrown down by the next ball of fire. He continued to fight on, struggling up and drawing his crossbow he turned to face his foe. Padraig aimed his crossbow and loosed a bolt at the frost dragon's eye. It screamed with rage and breathed massive gout of blue fire. Padraig dived left and reloaded his crossbow as he fell. He hit the ground and loosed another bolt at the dragon but it bounced off its hard scales. Padraig dropped his crossbow and drew his sword, raising it over his head as he charged. Bones crunched under his feet as he ran forth, screaming in rage and pain. The dragon froze for a second, trying to determine if Padraig was still a threat. Padraig pounded towards the dragon, covering two meters with each stride. The frost dragon seemed to dismiss him momentarily, turning the other way, and giving Padraig enough time to make good his attack. Padraig leaped forward towards his prey, bringing his sword up into the dragon's soft underbelly.

It howled with rage as thick red blood oozed from the wound onto the cavern floor. Padraig jumped back to avoid the dragon's serrated claws as they cut through the air in front of him only to be flung into the wall by the dragon's tail. Padraig sprinted forward, waving his sword around his head and cursing incoherently. He thrust his blade forwards and drew more blood from the dragon's belly. Padraig was becoming tired and worn out; his energy was being depleted by the strain of the fight. It would soon be over, one way or another.

**What will happen now? Stay tuned and REVIEW! They feed me!**


	2. The Dragons lair

**Authors notes: Well here it is, part 2! keep reading loyal followers! and enjoy...**

Padraig hurled himself behind a nearby rock to avoid another blast of brilliant blue flame. He crouched low, searching for his crossbow. It lay about 200 metres to his left. He wouldn't be able to get there quick enough under the current circumstances, so he would have to improvise. He reached down and picked up a small rats skull and threw it as hard as he could onto the opposite ledge. The dragon continued to look at the boulder Padraig was hiding behind, then launched itself to the place where the skull had landed. Padraig dived out from behind the rock and grabbed hold of his crossbow, calmly aiming at the frost dragon's face.

He pulled back the trigger. The frost dragon reeled backwards, howling with pain, a second crossbow bolt sticking out of its other eye. Padraig ran towards the blinded dragon and thrust his sword into its heart. The dragon let out a terrible roar, which reverberated around the canyon, and then it fell to the floor, whimpering like some pitiful slave beast. Padraig stood triumphant, staring down at his foe. Taking a knife the size of his forearm from his belt, he put the dragon out of his misery.

He then set about cutting off its scales and stuffing them into his backpack. When he had done that he pulled a long iron spike and several glass phials from his backpack, puncturing the dragon's skin with the spike and catching the dragon's blood in the glass phials. Taking an axe from his belt, Padraig cut off the dragon's horns, and, using a small saw, cut its teeth from its mouth. Once he had stripped its body everything valuable he turned his attention to the eggs in one corner off the cavern. Each roughly the size of a mans head, he figured he could carry about three with him back home, and, at the going price of thirty thousand gold pieces each, along with the added bonus of all the valuable parts of a dragon he could carry, would make him quite a tidy sum. Padraig walked around the cavern, looking for a way out, when he saw a large tunnel hidden underneath a rocky ledge. Leaving the items he had collected from the dragon he drew his sword and advanced slowly down the tunnel.

The darkness pressed around Padraig like a smothering blanket and the damp air chilled him to the bone. The skeletons of small animals crunched under Padraig's feet as he advanced slowly down the tunnel. After what seemed like hours Padraig saw daylight up ahead. He broke into a run down the tunnel and emerged back onto the snowy plane. He looked around. He was at the top of a valley. Looking down he saw a great river rushing through the middle of the valley. On either side of the river was a great pine forest, the tops of the trees dusted with snow. All around him mountains reached up into the sky. The sky was weak blue and the sun was dipping down in the distance.

It seemed almost surreal to Padraig, how such a beautiful place could still exist in such a troubled world. It would be dark soon and it was very unwise to travel by night in these parts, even for a warrior of Padraig's calibre, so he decided here would be a good place to set up camp for the night. He walked back and collected the dragons dismembered body parts and brought them through the tunnel. Padraig then set about finding some wood for a fire, but the only trees he could see were at the bottom of the valley. Now he had to get down there.

**Authors notes: see you soon, stay posted!**


	3. Running river

**Author's notes: ok fans, chapter 3! Padraig has just dispatched the dragon and is feeling a little weary. He looks forward to a meal then a rest. Is that what he'll get?**

Padraig took off his plate mail, revealing a wolfskin cloak underneath. Then he emptied his pack and strapped his sword's sheath onto his back, hung the empty pack over his shoulder and sheathed his sword. Then he tied a rope to a rock nearby and the other end around his waist. Slowly Padraig walked towards the cliff edge, turning around he slowly started to climb down the cliff face, trying not to look down at the forest floor 300 feet below, and a fall from this height would be fatal. He slowly climbed lower and lower and then…the rope stopped him, it wasn't long enough to reach the valley floor. Of course, Padraig had anticipated this and was ready for it.

Slowly, he untied the rope, gripping the rock face for dear life. Once the rope had been untied he carried on down towards the trees below. When he reached the forest floor the first thing he noticed was the overwhelmingly delicious aroma of the pine trees, much stronger than normal, the second thing that he was being stalked. Two white snow wolves were slinking towards him, growling softly. Padraig continued for a while, pretending not to have noticed them, hoping they would go away and find other prey. This hope was soon crushed as he realised he had wandered into a clearing in the trees. Now he had nowhere to hide, they would attack. They charged through the undergrowth, roaring fiercely. Each was about three foot tall, thick; sinuous muscle covered their body.

They were starving, frothing at the mouths and their ribs were visible through their skin. The first leapt, snarling at Padraig and knocked him to the floor while the other circled round them menacingly. Padraig reached desperately for his sword but it was just out of reach, he strained against the wolf and tried to push it off him but it was too strong. The wolf's face was so close to Padraig's he could feel its hot breath on his face and smell the rancid smell of rotting meat. With much effort Padraig managed to free his arm and punched the wolf hard in the mouth, it snarled but did not move. Reaching for his belt, Padraig drew his sword and plunged it into the wolf's chest, causing it to flinch, giving him enough time to pull himself free. Scrambling away from the wolves he held his sword low, inviting them to attack. The first wolf, the one he had wounded, leapt again, gnashing its teeth. Padraig ducked and span round, slashing his sword across the wolf's belly. Its blood mixed with the snow making a crimson slush. The second wolf eyed him menacingly, then without warning it charged with incredible speed, though it was not fast enough. Padraig sidestepped the attack and rammed his sword into the wolf's back.

After he had cleaned a sword in the snow he walked through the forest, listening and looking, searching for a suitable tree to cut down. All around him the forest floor was covered with the golden-brown autumn leaves. He could here the buzzing of flying insects all around him and somewhere high up in the trees some unseen birds called to each other. At last Padraig found a small tree and began to cut through its trunk with his axe. It was hard work so he decided to find the river he had seen from the top of the cliff. As he wandered around he heard the sound of running water. Slowly he walked towards the sound and soon found himself by the river's edge. Looking into the water he saw his own reflection. His dark black hair had grown long and now hung down to his shoulders. His ebony brown eyes were full of life. He saw his own stern, chiselled face and muscular neck. Taking a handful of water he threw it over his face before it all flowed between his fingers. He hadn't washed properly for days and his skin was covered with dirt and grime.

Taking a deep breath he submerged his whole head in the water. It was cold but fresh. Seeing fish swimming up and down he realised he might be able to have a proper meal instead of salted beef. He took his head out of the water and relished the thought of salmon. Slowly he slipped his hands into the water and waited for a fish to pass over them. One fish came to investigate these strange new objects, and with lightning speed, Padraig grabbed the fish and hauled it out of the water. It was heavy, about a stone, and around a foot long. With a single motion he snapped its neck. Then he walked back towards the cliff, his back heavy with wood and the fish. It was much harder climbing up the cliff but eventually he reached the top. Padraig collapsed onto the floor, panting, sweat pouring down his face. He lay there for a few minutes, perfectly still, before sitting up and taking the wood out of his bag. He stacked up the pieces of wood into a pyramid shape before taking a piece of flint from his pile of equipment and striking it along his sword. Sparks flew through the air, several landing on the wood and setting them alight. Padraig blew on the flames gently to get the fire going before holding up the fish to the light. With one swipe of his sword Padraig cut off the fishes head. He then began to skin it carefully. He soon had the fish cooking over the now roaring fire.

The cool night air pressed around him, the wind screaming through the valley below. His eyelids began to droop and he found himself nodding off.

**Alright, stay tuned and review!**


	4. A nightmare and Laarick

**Author's notes: 4th chapter! BTW no-one has reviewed for a while... read on!**

_Jekhr stalked the deer, moonlight lighting up the forest around him, casting an eerie white glow across the trees. He crouched, silently calculating his next move. His son, Padraig crouched near to him, bow in hand. He would make a great warrior someday, of that Jekhr could be sure. Jekhr crept forward, motioning Padraig to stay where he was. As Jekhr moved forward he heard a twig snap somewhere to his left. The deer raised its head, sniffed the air and bounded off. "Padraig!" Jekhr whispered furiously, "what the hell did you move for?"_

"_I didn't!" replied Padraig's voice from behind him._

"Then what the hell was that noise?" The colour drained from Jekhr's face as a sudden horrible thought came to him. "Padraig," he whispered, "we have to move, now!"

Padraig woke with a start; his body was covered in cold sweat covered. He vaguely remembered the dream. He lay down and tried not to think about what happened that fateful night many years ago.

.

Jekhr and Padraig thundered through the undergrowth, they back to the village, adrenalin pumped through their veins they where tiring but if they stopped they were as good as dead.

Padraig couldn't get to sleep; every time he closed his eyes he replayed what had happened that night…

_It was getting closer, Jekhr urged Padraig on, and they had to reach the village. Then, Jekhr tripped on a large stone. Padraig saw him fall to the ground. Seconds later the night stalker crashed through the trees nearby. It was humanoid in shape, its body rippled with strong muscle. Its arms ended in scythe-like claws. Its body was covered in tough scales, pupil-less eyes were a blood red. It seemed to smile, showing its long, white fangs. Its whole form oozed malice. It stared a Jekhr for a couple of seconds before slashing its claws across his chest. Jekhr screamed with pain. "Padraig…Padraig…sh…sh…shoot it with your bo…bow" Jekhr screamed again as the night stalker picked him up and threw him against a tree. "H…h…heeeellllp meeee!" _

_Padraig stood, frozen with fear. He watched as the night crawler ripped open his father's chest, spraying blood everywhere. Still Padraig didn't move. The, slowly he turned away and ran. He didn't stop running; he dropped his bow and stumbled through the trees. He could hear his father's screams behind him. He tried to block them out of his head; he saw his father's chest ripped open, blood covering the plants nearby. He ran and ran until he was well clear of the forest and the village. He could not return home now. He travelled for days without food or water, crawling across a grassy plain until he found a large boulder. He sat with his back leant against it and started to cry. Tears streamed down his face. He could have saved his father, if he had not have been so terrified. "What have I done?"_

When Padraig awoke it was the early morning. He packed up quickly and headed through the cave back to the tunnel through which he had arrived. The long crawl back was harder due to the extra bulk and weight of his pack. When he reached the end of the tunnel he carefully checked that there were no other living animals nearby before hauling himself out of the hole onto the snowy plains. Padraig had already decided hat he would head for Laarick "the city in the snow". It took several days hard travel to reach Laarick and it was late evening when he reached the city. The city gates were made of thick oak, reinforced with the strongest steel. Each door was about 20 meters high and where set in a massive marble arch which was about 10 metres deep. Behind the gates there stretched out, surrounded on all side by a colossal stone wall. Around the outskirts of the city the building where little more than wooden huts, but the deeper into the city the buildings were the more magnificent they became. Padraig felt insignificant as he walked through the great archway and into the bowels of the city. Laarick was about a league across situated on top of a massive hill and surrounded by mountains. The only way into the city was through the "black rock pass". In the centre of the city was the citadel, an imposing fortress designed as a last bastion of defence and to house the current ruler of the city. Surrounding the citadel its tall towers stretched up into the sky, casting a massive shadow over the other buildings. People swarmed through the streets, shoving aside anyone in their way. Merchants bustled up to him, trying to sell him useless trinkets and rotten food.

"Padraig?" Padraig spun around and saw a massive man with a bushy black beard. "Bellephron?"

"It is you!" boomed the bearded man. He shouldered aside a group of people and stopped in front of Padraig. The two men smashed their heads together, growled fiercely at one another, looked each other up and down, then both burst into laughter. The man's booming laughter filled the street, causing people to stop and stare. "So Padraig, my friend, how are you?"

"The same and you?"

"Well, I don't want to brag, but, well, I'm now the official captain of the guard!"

"How the heck did you get a position like that?"

"I worked hard, never missed a day of work, and, ahem, got the count drunk…"

"Lucky git…" mumbled Padraig.

"Anyway you staying here long or just stopping by?"

"Well," replied Padraig "I just needed to sell some goods and get off again."

"Thought so, well there's a great new drinking hole open, you wanna come have a drink?"

"Sure," replied Padraig, "a quick drink won't hurt."

The drinking hole was full of smoke and the sounds of people laughing, and a brawl had erupted between a couple of men on a corner table, now a small crowd had formed, betting on the outcome of the fight and egging the men on. Bellephron stood up and wandered over to the bar. After a brief conversation with the barman he returned with the drinks. He handed Padraig a glass and downed his own. Padraig took a small sip and put the glass back down again. The ale was strong and had a nasty kick but was the first pint Padraig had had in days and so he gulped it down thirstily. Suddenly everything became blurred, Padraig tried to stand but his legs were too weak and he fell to the floor. In the back of his mind he could hear someone shouting his name. He saw a dark shape loom over him and tasted blood; He wondered whose it was. His head swam and everything went black…

**Author's notes: SUSPENSE!**


	5. Defend Laarick!

_Padraig sidestepped the first man's charge, driving his dagger into the back of his neck. The other two men tried to draw their weapons. Padraig was too fast. In two steps Padraig had cleared the gap between them and slashed his sword across the second man's jugular. The third man took one look at Padraig, spun on the spot and sprinted away. He heard a noise and spun around to see a black robed man standing behind him. "Impressive, child, what is your name?"_

"_Padraig, my name is Padraig."_

"Padraig, Padraig, wake up you lazy git!" Padraig opened his eyes tried to sit up. A sharp pain in his side stopped him. "Whoa there, you just hang tight, that's a nasty hole you got in you." Padraig realised he was in lying in a bed in a small room. Bellephron crouched next to him. "Where am I, what happened?"

"Don't worry mate, you're in the count's palace. There was something in that ale."

"Yeah, I figured."

"That guy mangled you pretty bad, and that dagger was poisoned too!"

Padraig suddenly remembered the taste of blood and realised it must have been his own. He tried to sit up but collapsed back onto the bed as a searing pain shot through his body. He looked down and saw his chest was swathed in bandages.

"How long till I'm back on my feet?" asked Padraig.

"About two weeks." Bellephron replied.

"Two weeks!" Padraig wailed.

"Believe me, you're lucky to be alive, we have some of the best doctors in the empire!" Padraig hadn't heard him though, he was already asleep.

_Padraig threw up his sword to parry another fearsome blow, the force of his adversaries attack would had broken Padraig's arm were it not for the bracers he wore on his wrists. "Good block Padraig, that will be enough for today. We will continue training tomorrow…" Padraig walked away, rubbing his wrist._

Padraig awoke to agony; it felt like red hot daggers were being pushed into his chest.

He sat up and his breathing became a little easier. His senses were in disarray and his head felt like it would explode. After a few minutes the pain subsided and Padraig slumped back down. He lay awake for what seemed like hours, his body covered in cold sweat. His brain trying to make sense of what was going on. When the morning came Bellephron visited, he sat with Padraig for a couple of hours before he had his watch, of this Padraig were grateful. Bellephron was one of Padraig's best friends, probably his only real friend. After Bellephron had left Padraig tried to sleep, but he couldn't, visions of the past melded with the future, making the two almost indistinguishable.

_The din of battle filled the air, men screamed and fell all around him, yet he still stood._

Padraig sat up bolt upright. Bells rang furiously in the distance and men screamed.

_He swung his sword, slaying all before him._

Something was definitely wrong.

_Soon only two figures remain. They circle each other then charge, clashing together fiercely._

Padraig threw back his covers and marched to the door. He threw it open and saw a solitary guard in the corridor. The guard had short blonde hair, and couldn't have been any older than 20. There was a look of fear in his soft brown eyes. Padraig walked up to him. "What is going on?" he demanded.

"I..I..It's the barbarians, they're, they're attacking the city, there's thousands of them, we are all going to die!" the guard slumped to the floor muttering to himself. Padraig looked at him, and then went back into the room, closing the door behind him. He emerged a minute later wearing his shimmering steel plate mail, his crossbow at his belt and sword in its sheath. "Take me to Bellephron," ordered Padraig "take me now."

Bellephron stood, silently, garbed in full armour. In his hand he held a massive two handed axe. Next to him stood count Raalack. They where surrounded on all sides by the count's knights, who where ready to fight and die for their lord. Archers stood on the walls and the city militia guarded the gatehouse, with swordsmen at the front, supported by the pikesmen behind. A loud horn blew in the distance, followed by several more. Bellephron called up to the archers on the walls "What's going on?"

"It's first company sir, they're back."

"Five men. Five men out of a company of 60, what the hell happened out there! You had horses, you had bows, just how the hell did the barbarians do so much damage?"

"That's the thing sir, its not just barbarians; there are giants with them! Frost giants!"

Padraig charged down the corridor, his armour clanking loudly, his footsteps echoing of the marble floor. He had to find Bellephron. Up ahead he could see a large wooden door. He skidded to a halt, smashing into the door and bruising his shoulder. He wrenched it open and found himself in the entrance hall. The hall was full of soldiers in elaborate plate armour carrying ornate great swords. They all wore long crimson capes with a golden lion's face embroidered on them. The same symbol was on their breastplate and there helmets had golden plumes. Padraig recognised them as the counts personal guard, the golden lions, in their centre stood the count. He was clad in a set of mithril armour, one of the hardest types of armour known to man. He wore a cape of shimmering gold with a crimson plumed helmet. Sheathed at his belt was a long sword made of mithril, strong enough to cut through stone. There was a large blue sapphire set into the hilt of his blade. Probably enchanted by some kind of mage.

"Sir!" Padraig stepped forward. "Sir, I wish to fight, where would I be most useful?"

Bellephron watched as the messenger ran across the courtyard. "Sir, the barbarians are advancing."

"Damn it, is artillery ready yet?" yelled Bellephron.

"No sir, Sergeant Brown is still working on it!"

"Incompetent fool!"

"Right prepare the defences, check everyone is ready."

"Yes sir."

**Author's notes: sorry this took so long, but i hope you'll think its worth the wait! Keep reading!**


	6. The battle

**Authors notes: part six in this fic, attack approaches!**

"You are Bellephron's friend are you not?"

"Yes sir." replied Padraig.

"I have heard good things about you, stay with me." The count walked towards the main doors that lead out onto the street. Outside was a scene of total chaos, soldiers and peasants running in opposite directions. The count and his men pushed through the crowd towards the main gates. People dashed past them, all who got in the way where shoved aside or trampled.

"How am I meant to protect the city when I'm surrounded by idiots?" Bellephron glared menacingly at his assembled officers. "The next person to..."

"That's enough Bellephron!" came a voice from behind him. Bellephron looked around and saw the count and his men standing in the street, next to the count was Padraig, clad in his gleaming plate mail, long sword in hand.

"Padraig, what the hell are you doing here, you're supposed to be in bed!"

"I couldn't sit by and do nothing, you know me…"

"Still, you are not fit to fight!"

"Bellephron he's with me." the count butted in.

"Sir," asked Padraig, "where we will be stationed."

"We, Padraig, will hold the gate." replied the count, "that is where the fighting will be fiercest."

They were interrupted when a horn sounded in the distance.

"They will be at the walls in ten minutes, maybe less; I don't know how fast they can move." The count turned to face Bellephron. "Are the men ready?"

"Yes sir!" replied Bellephron, "the catapults are ready now and all units have taken their posts. Ballista teams in the towers are ready to fire; we have the finest marksmen on the walls ready to shoot at a moments notice."

"The fangs, are they ready to fire?"

"As always, sir."

"What are the fangs?" asked Padraig, curious that he hadn't heard of this.

"The fangs," boomed Bellephron "the fangs are the two greatest cannon in the province, and they guard the gatehouse, ready to crush any intruder, they are forged from the..."

"Yes," the count butted in, "That is all very good, but we cannot relay solely on them.

The walls of Laarick have not been breached since the great daemon wars and I do not intend to be the one to break that tradition. Tell all artillery crews their first priority is the giants, we must take them down before they reach the gate, they could wreak havoc if they got inside the city."

"I'll tell them now sir!" yelled Bellephron and with that, he ran off. Padraig looked around, surveying the defences, looking for any possible signs of weakness. All around the walls stood units of swordsmen, ready to pounce on any enemy that breached the walls. At the gatehouse stood a formation of swords and pikes, swordsmen creating a shield wall at the front while the pikesmen stood behind providing support to their comrades, so that any attacker would have to run headlong into a line of pikes, before crashing onto the shields of the swordsmen. Padraig also took this time to study the soldier's uniform. They wore a dark blue tunic with white trousers and black boots. Over their tunic was a metal breastplate, and all the soldiers had on steel helmets. Their weapons glinted in the sunlight, blinding Padraig. It was now he realised everything had gone deathly quiet; the only noise was of the birds circling overhead and the sound of men shuffling their boots nervously.

"_The call of battle, high in the air…"_

Padraig recalled the old battle song he had learnt when he was young. The last he had heard of this was in the last Great War, 10 years ago, many leagues from here.

_"The clash of swords, the whistling of arrows,_

_Time for battle as the enemy is there…_

_Every hero's wish, to defeat all foes."_

Suddenly a great roar sounded from the other side of the walls.

"They're round the back! They've cut a way through the mountain! Fire! Fire!"

The calm was broken as more roars cut through the air, accompanied by screams of men. Padraig heard the clanking as the ballista were turned to aim at the giants, the twang of the high-tension wires, 10 foot of steel exploding out the back of a giant's torso.

Through all of this the count was standing calm, obviously confident in the walls defence and his phalanx of warriors.

"Padraig, just take a look to the south here."

"Yes sir… what?"

For when looking through the small gap Padraig had seen a massive army of barbarians marching up the road, to the main gate.

"The giants are a distraction…" he breathed.

"Just as I thought," said the count.

Padraig started sprinting towards Bellephron's squad, anxious to warn him.

"Bellephron! Look out! It... It's a distraction!" he panted.

"What? Right I've got this."

Bellephron began to pick out soldiers from his squad; Padraig guessed he was looking for the elite.

"We need them… up at the gate!"

"Alright you lot, get up there! Bring half the cannons and ballistas!"

A dozen soldiers began dragging the weapons towards the gate, while a score of heavy troops ran up towards the count and the gates.

When Padraig returned the count was looking through the hole again.

"They're getting closer! Hurry up!" he turned round and bellowed. Padraig was astounded. He'd never seen the count so angry…or so scared.

"Right sir, we're in position, but the barbarians are still out of range."

"Start winding them up then! Fools!"

The soldiers started to tighten the cord on the ballistas, increasing the tension to almost breaking point. Cannons were aimed and loaded.

"In range! OPEN FIRE!"

Cannons boomed, ballistas twanged, the onslaught was merciless. Explosions ringed the walls, the barbarians, clad only in furs and chain mail, had no chance.

"The Fangs! The Fangs are ready!"

Padraig watched as the two rumoured most powerful cannon turned to face the intruder. There was a moment's peace. Then all Hell was unleashed upon the invaders. The explosions were massive, and Padraig could feel the shockwaves from here. After it was done Padraig saw a smoke cloud in the air. He thought it resembled a kind of giant mushroom.

"The day is ours! The frost giants are retreating!"

A mighty cheer went up from the assembled ranks of soldiers. The count still looked unsure, though.

"Padraig, don't you think that retreat was too swift?"

"Exactly sir, I think they're up to something…"

"Nonsense!" boomed Bellephron. "The dogs just saw they could not face the might of our forces! They've turned tail and ran!"

"Hmm…" murmured the count, "I wonder…"


End file.
